


Trust

by irlmaxxor



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmaxxor/pseuds/irlmaxxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An insight into Fiddleford and Stanford's time in the Bunker.<br/>Potential spoilers for TLM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

A heavy sigh broke the silence, travelling through the dust-filled air to the other side of the Bunker. Fiddleford raised his head in response, risking a glance behind him at Ford, whose brooding figure resumed a soft series of mutters as he sat slumped over his journal. He’d been pouring over those two pages for days now, neglecting food, sleep, and any hint of comfort Fiddleford attempted to give. 

Days had blurred into weeks, and though he wasn’t sure exactly how long they’d been holed up in the Bunker together, McGucket know that the tension was turning stagnant; it wasn’t fated to last much longer. Sooner or later, one of them was bound to snap - and with the way things were going, he had a feeling he knew which of them it would be.

“Stanford…” He called softly, standing up from his chair.

“Not now, I’m busy.”

“You’ve been sayin’ that f’far too long, we’re safe here, you promised… You can _relax_.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Ford’s lips before he shook his head, starting to scribble something down. Fiddleford waited patiently for a response, frown lines forming over his usually serene expression until he realised he wasn’t going to get one. His fingers tightened around the back of the chair, wanting to move closer, _needing_ to move closer, but…

_Yellow eyes, changed, **not his eyes** , what’s going on? What isn’t he telling me?_

His knuckles had turned white when he finally mustered the courage to speak again; barely above a whisper, cracked and frail, but resolute.

“Are you so determined t’shut me out, Stanford?” 

Ford paused in his work, though remained silent.

“All this time, all we’ve been through and you- You won’t even _tell me_ what it is we’re up against, what that _thing_ was-!” Fiddleford forced back tears, wiping at his eyes as he released the chair and marched over to the other side of the room. “I love you, Stanford! I love you with all I have, but I don’t think I can take this much longer! You’re always scribblin’ in that there book, without a care for the world around you, for the _people_ around you.”

Whatever it was that he’d said, it had sparked something in Ford. He suddenly stood up, pushing the chair from under him and sending poor Fiddleford reeling backwards.

“I don’t care? _I_ don’t care? How can you say that, after all I’ve done to keep us _safe_ -!?” He spluttered, refusing to turn around and look his assistant in the eye. 

“Safe from _what_? You won’t tell me, why don’t y’trust me anymore…?”

“I do trust you! That’s why I have to keep this secret, I’m not letting you suffer for my mistakes,” His voice had raised to a roar and his hands were clenched on the desk, trembling. “I won’t let him take you, Fiddleford. I won’t--”

“Who? Ford, you can’t just leave me in the dark like this!” He didn’t expect his voice to crack so violently, but he had more than anticipated the fresh wave of tears sent rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so worried, I’m losin’ sleep, I’m- I’m goin _crazy_ down here, I… I can’t…” 

Stanford shook his head, breathing deeply and remaining quiet for what felt like hours. When he finally turned to face his partner, his voice was low and solemn, closer to his Ford than it had been in a long time. “You can. You _have to._ ”

“Ford…”

“I just have to figure out how to stop it, Fidds. I just need to find a way, and I’m so close- I can feel it.”

Ford raised his head, and as Fiddleford’s tear-glazed eyes finally regained focus and granted him a good, long look at the man he loved, a burning sensation took hold of his chest. He felt his heart tear, staring up into wide eyes full of tears, spilling over dark, purple bags onto a cold and dirty floor. 

Stanford’s hair was unruly, filthy, coated in grease, and what little dignity he normally retained (no matter how dishevelled), was completely gone. Concern only grew as little details became more and more apparent: his clothes were hanging off his body, his cheekbones were sticking out through ghastly, sweaty pale skin… The cheeks he’d cup in his hands while they kissed, the cushioned lap he so adored sitting on, the pudgy-stomach he’d rest his head on though lazy, autumn-time naps, they were gone. Fear took over, a thousand questions all running through his mind at once; when was the last time he showered? When was the last time he _ate_? How had he failed to notice his partner wasting away to such a degree…?

It was with sick realisation that Fiddleford looked over Stanford, and didn’t recognise the man looking back at him. He looked like a child, alone and lost and... And _scared_.

“I don’t know what to do…” He all but whispered, resting back against the desk and clutching at the side. Something churned in McGucket’s insides as he wondered if Stanford still had the strength to stand unaided. “I’ve been trying so _hard_ , so many equations, endless reams of formulae… I can’t find anything that’ll keep him out of my head. It’s only a matter of time. I can’t-- I won’t let him hurt you, but I’m running out of ideas.”

“Oh- Oh Stanford, hush…” His own voice emerged rasping and hoarse, grabbing at words he barely had the energy to say. “Stop that talk, we’re safe down here… Whatever it is, we’re safe.” 

“Not forever,” He continued, running a trembling hand through his knotted, greying hair. “You said it yourself, you can’t live like this. I’m so sorry- I’m… I’m _so_ sorry, I’ve been such an idiot. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like this. Fiddleford, I love you…”

“Hush now, hush… I know y’do, Stanford,” Fiddleford found himself unable to just stand and watch any longer, practically falling forward into Ford’s chest and wrapping his arms around him, slipping them under the coat and bundling his fists in the _alarmingly_ loose jumper. “I know you do.” 

Ford’s body shook with sobs as he fell back into his chair, pulling Fiddleford down with him and into his lap. He cradled him close, arms tight around his body as he planted a kiss on his forehead and nestled his face into Fidds’ hair. Fiddleford repayed him in kind, gently showering his neck with pecks and nuzzles, rubbing his back with the palm of his hand and muttering sweet-nothings into his ear. 

“I could stay like this forever…” A mumble drifted up from the face buried in Stanford’s neck, drowsy and heavy with emotion. “I’m sorry about all the things I said, Ford, I didn’t mean to--”

He was interrupted by a chuckle, thankfully one so much more lighthearted than the dry laugh he’d grown used to. 

“There you go again, Fiddleford…”

“Hunh?” He lifted his face, peering into Stanford’s eyes. “An’ what’s that mean exactly?”

“Apologizing when it’s not your fault.” 

“Ford…”

“Hear me out,” He continued, placing another gentle kiss atop the bridge of Fiddleford’s nose. “I… I’ll tell you everything. I should’ve told you a long time ago, I just wanted to keep you out of danger.” He laughed again, but this time it was empty. “I just ended up pushing you away.”

“It’s alright, Stanford… I’m sure you only wanted what was best for both of us.”

Ford grinned, and warmth spilled out of every crease, every wrinkle in his smile for the first time in what must have been an age. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He stretched, loosening his grip slightly but keeping hold of Fiddleford with a gentle smile. His six fingers drummed against Fidds’ side as he began, a nervous habit he’d picked up through his years working on the portal, and working with him. 

“His name is Bill,” He said, trying for a nice clean start, “and he’s a dream demon.”

Fiddleford nodded, confused, but entering the explanation with an open mind. It was hard to sustain any _other_ mindset, what with the strange and wonderful experiences they’d started having since moving to Gravity Falls. Hazy memories of past adventures began to flit across his mind as Stanford launched into his story, and Fiddleford couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever experience anything quite so incredible again, out of the bunker, in the real world; though as the topic became more and more solemn with each passing minute, the likelihood of that happening stretched out on the horizon, far too distant for Fiddleford to grasp. 

“... Everything is different now,” Stanford concluded, hanging his head. “I was a fool for trusting Bill, he… He _used_ me, and I bought it all, hook, line and sinker. … I should’ve told you sooner.”

“So that’s what’d taken hold of you…” 

“What?”

“Stanford, you can’t honestly believe I didn’t realise something was up when you started calling me Fiddlesticks,” He muttered, laughing despite it all. 

“He- He called you _Fiddlesticks_?”

“Mm,” He stretched out, placing his feet back on the floor but remaining firmly planted in Stanford’s lap. “An’ he asked if I wanted to know the exact time and date of my death, an’ how I felt about amnesia, of all things…”

“Ugh,” A light groan escaped from Ford’s cracked lips as he slumped forward, resting his head atop Fiddleford’s. “I can’t believe it... “

“Now now, you weren’t to know.”

“Even still…” He paused, sighing and shaking his head. “I should get back to work. It’s only a matter of time, he can still come back, and if he possesses me again…”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fidds--”

“I mean it, Stanford,” McGucket’s expression mirrored his words perfectly, stern as he’d ever been. “You need food, a bath and a nice, _long_ rest. I won’t have y’killin’ yourself over them there codes, not on my watch.”

Ford mumbled something in response, but it was lost to the sudden wave of fatigue.

“See? You know I’m right. C’mon, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

“Sure…” He muttered through a tired smile. “Hey, Fiddleford…?”

“Hm?”

“... Will you get a bath with me?”

“Of course, Ford.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
